Mom I'd Like to Fall in Love With
by Pretty Persistent
Summary: \"You're the first thing for so long that I've liked. The first person I could stand to be with."\ Sex, lies, and revenge. But never, ever love. Puck/Emma, Puck/Terri


**Title: **Mom I'd Like to Fall in Love With

**Rating: **T

**Pairings: **Puck/Emma, Puck/Terri

**Soundtrack: **"Mrs. Robinson" – Casey James (Cover)

**Summary: **"You're the first thing for so long that I've liked. The first person I could stand to be with." –_The Graduate__  
_

**A/N: **On a technical note, I have changed my pen name from xSleeplessXNightsx to Pretty Persistent!

This fic has been a long, unexpected, emotional project. I hope you all enjoy and I would love to hear what you think!

* * *

"Welcome to the Fall 2010 auditions for New Directions!" Mr. Schuester exclaims, clapping his hands together.

Rachel and Finn are beaming, Quinn is sitting solemnly, by herself, Tina is nervously shaking, and for some reason, Artie is giving you the death glare.

You just roll your eyes. This is so lame. _Glee club _is lame. But you figure it's the one thing that is going to keep you sane, this year. As much as you tried to keep it a secret, by now, everyone has pretty much figure out that you do actually like being in glee club. It's different than football. You may be more naturally athletic, but glee gives you something to work towards; focus; support. It makes you realize what matters.

Sex used to be what kept you sane. But not anymore. As totally unbearable as you are finding it to be, you have to give it up. All summer long, Quinn had not _really _given you a chance. The two of you visit Beth together and even babysit the Giardi triplets, once in a while. Sometimes, you think she really does wish the two of you could have been parents together. But she doesn't trust you, yet. Which is why you're trying to prove yourself. And without sex, you need glee club more than ever.

"I can't express how excited I am to see twice the amount of kids we had last year, sitting in front of me, right now! Unfortunately, due to the budget, Principal Figgins is only allowing me a team of twenty. So four of you will have to be cut…"

Ugh, whatever…You know you will probably just stand up and armpit fart the National Anthem. It's not like it really matters—you're already a given.

"Alright, can we just take last year's kids, slap on a few more dancing homos, and call it a day?" you suggest, impatiently. Sure, it's fun being in the group. But you don't really like to sing in front of people, without a good reason.

Mr. Schuester only stares at you, for a moment. You don't really contribute much to group discussions, unless you're sneaking in a dirty joke or a backhanded remark about some hot female artist whose songs you are covering.

"I'm sorry, Puck, but I have to do this fairly. Everyone, veteran or not, must audition today," he states, finally.

You sigh and slump in your seat, just wanting to get the afternoon over with.

Rachel volunteers to go first, leaving Finn looking like a deer in headlights, seeing as they are auditioning with a duet. She is so stupid, that girl. You already know they are going to be the leads again, but even still, she is only auditioning this way to help him. You think she is a much better singer, but she is just some stupid lovesick girl.

You glance at Quinn, while the golden couple sings "As Long As You're Mine" from Wicked. So typical. It's not like you would ever want a relationship like Finn and Rachel's. But Quinn is the first girl who has ever really meant something to you, so you have to admit, it is frustrating. She catches you staring at her, and shoots you a funny look. Your burrow your eyebrows and look away. You're not sure how much more of her fickle behavior you can take.

Mr. Schuester is smiling and clapping when they finish, not that it surprises you. But suddenly, Quinn volunteers to go next.

"Mr. Schuester, I thought that a song I could put a lot of emotion into would best showcase me," she tells him, keeping her eyes glued to their coach. He half smiles, almost knowingly, at her.

As soon as she starts singing, however, she focuses on you. You cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. What is this stupid, fluffy song about, anyway…?

"_I want you to know that it doesn't matter where we take this road, someone's gotta go. And I want you to know, you couldn't have loved me better. But I want you to move on, so I'm already gone."_

By the time you actually tune in to the lyrics, you're fuming. You're pissed that she's embarrassing you like this, and you're pissed that you wasted so much time on her. Whatever. Beth was the only thing holding the two of you together, anyway.

She finishes and sits down, looking sad. You're a little sad, too, but that's the last emotion you are willing to show, after a stunt like that.

An hour later, you've endured Britney Spears, _more _Madonna, Frank Sinatra, a bunch of fruity showtunes, and even some Eminem. Some of the new kids sound pretty good, but it doesn't really matter, anyway. Mr. Schuester is just going to play favorites.

"Puck, are you going to audition?" he asks you. Everyone else has volunteered, by now.

"Sure, whatever. Why else would I have put myself through this geek-fest?" you mumble.

You tell the band to play Sweet Caroline. You doubt that you even know all the words to any other songs. It's a pretty flat performance—or whatever these music lovers would call it—but you're not concerned.

"Alright, thanks guys!" Mr. Schuester does his stupid hand clap thing, again. "I'm going to have some _really _tough decisions, but you can expect a list to be posted on the bulletin board, tomorrow morning."

You leave, immediately, not even waiting to talk to Quinn.

XXX

It's early, you're tired, and the last thing you want to endure is another seven hours of class. You figure you'll probably spend a couple of those periods taking a nap in the nurse's office, like you usually do. But at least it's Thursday, which means you get to sit at glee practice, instead of run drills on the football field.

"Watch it, punk!" you shout, as a pair of wheels almost rams into your shins, causing you to jump back. You shoot Artie a glare, and he seems exceptionally terrified of you… Then again, you did grow your Mohawk back, over the summer.

You're at your locker when your ex-girlfriend—the black one, whose name you still can't remember—places a hand on your shoulder. "I'm terribly sorry, Noah," she tells you.

And just a moment later, you see Rachel, decked out in heavy raingear. What is with everyone today?

"I'm going to kick some Schuester ass!" you hear, as Santana grabs you by the arm and whips you around to face her.

"What the hell, Santana!" you gripe, yanking your arm back.

"No, seriously. This is fucking gay. Glee club is going to suck, this year."

Santana is venting, but you aren't really sure what she's getting at. After seeing her a blubbery mess, when you all sang to Mr. Schuester last spring, she was the one person you confessed about liking glee club to. There were instances when the two of you could pretty much only relate to each other, even if it was usually in a negative light.

"What are you talking about?" you snap, impatiently. You have an unspoken understanding, when it comes to glee club, but it's not something you and her frequently talk about. But then again, you and Santana don't frequently do much talking.

"Mr. Schuester cut you."

You don't respond to Santana. You don't even change your expression. All you care about is finding that bulletin board, so you can see for yourself.

If it weren't for the losers huddled around it, you probably never would have found the list. Who checks the bulletin board, anyway? You shove your way to the front and promptly remove a freshman who is standing in your way.

There are twenty names on that list, and yours is not one of them. You lost Quinn, and now you've lost glee.

Fuck trying. You're done with having focus and being supportive. And all that other 'feel good' bullshit.

You're going to get back at Mr. Schuester, no matter what it takes. And that's all there is to it.

XXX

Destroying the glee club is Sue Sylvester's game.

No, you know exactly what it takes to destroy the man. And you have all the skills needed to do so. Because if there's one thing Will Schuester loves more than the glee club, it's women. And he may know his music, but you will always be better with the ladies.

He got quite the reputation as a big man whore last year. Sure, you might have a similar image, but that label is much less attractive on a high school teacher. Even still, you're pretty sure you know where to hit him the hardest.

It's going to be difficult, though, getting the one thing that you really need to take away from him, unlike the way he so easily ripped glee club away from you. Everyone knows that Mr. Schuester's been pining after that red headed guidance counselor since last year's winter break. Whether they are together or not, you never bothered to figure out. But it doesn't matter. You will either be breaking them up or keeping them apart. Either way, you are crushing Mr. Schuester in the process.

You have been receiving apologies and sorrowful looks from people, all day. When it comes time for Spanish class, you don't even consider attending. The last thing you need is Mr. Schuester's pity.

But you're not going to the nurse, either. You have a different faculty member to pay a visit to.

Putting on your best pout, you tap on the counseling office door. Ms. Pillsbury smiles through the glass and motions for you to come in.

"What can I help you with, Noah?" she says, brightly. "Here, have a seat."

"Um, most people call me Puck, actually…" you inform her, sitting down in the chair across from her desk.

"Oh, well, that's just a nickname… I like to have more of a, um, personal relationship with my students."

Neither of you says anything, for a good minute. She just keeps nodding at you, with those big eyes.

This is going to be harder than you thought.

Ms. Pillsbury seems kind of desperate. But at the same time, she's so innocent, you doubt she would be caught dead having an affair with a student.

"You know what, I don't know why I'm here, actually."

It's useless. Mr. Schuester will always win, anyway. You start to stand up.

"No, Noah! Wait… Er, Puck…" she stammers, helplessly.

That's when you see it: loneliness. It's in her eyes.

You smirk, settling back into your seat. "I could make an exception, you know. I mean, I could just let you call me Noah…"

"I'd like that!" she giggles.

God, she is so lame… It's no wonder Mr. Schuester's got the hots for her. But whatever. She has a pretty nice body. It will be more than worth it, when you ruin Mr. Schuester's life, like he's been trying to do to yours.

"Mr. Schuester cut me from the glee club," you say, trying to replace the bitterness with solemnity.

"What?" she snaps.

Stunned, yourself, you lean back a bit.

You don't know much about your guidance counselor other than the fact that she's obsessed with cleanliness and one Will Schuester. What other reason would someone have to hang around the glee club so much?

You have had maybe two conversations with her in your life—including this one—but you still know that she is typically a quiet, reserved person.

Five minutes, and you've already got her raising her voice. And you haven't even gotten her in bed, yet.

"It was the only thing I had left… You know, I had to give my baby up for adoption. And then, Quinn broke up with me. Glee was kind of, I don't know, holding me together." You shrug.

You're not lying, but you are faking the sadness, a bit. Nothing gets under your skin, like that. But guidance counselors love this kind of sappy shit, right? And you have to get closer to her.

"Who does he think he is?" she continues. "Does he realize how much you did to help that team?"

Wait, how does _she _realize how much you did to help that team…?

"I don't know what his problem is… Thinking he can take control of everyone's lives…"

You're thinking either this woman really likes you, or she really hates Mr. Schuester. Either way, you're already making progress.

XXX

The next day, you receive a slip excusing you from class—more specifically, Spanish class—in order to meet with the guidance counselor.

You show up early. She looks incredibly excited. You know she's lonely, and all, but you wonder why she is so drawn to you.

"Hi Noah," she sighs, and her cheeks flush.

Usually, you go after stronger women. You don't care to go for the girls who fall all over you so easily. Kinda like Rachel Berry had. But Ms. Pillsbury is an entirely different type of challenge. And you are certainly up for it. Because this has nothing to do with whom you would prefer to hook up with. This is about an entirely different type of personal gain.

"You wanted to see me, Ms. P?" You smirk, and literally watch her shiver.

"Yes, um." She stops, and pretty obviously fakes a cough. "I spoke with Mr. Schuester this morning. I, um, didn't want to do it yesterday. I was pretty upset, and needed to cool off, first…"

You don't even know what she's saying, anymore. She just keeps fidgeting uncomfortably and your only concern is how long it's going to take you to get in her pants.

"Anyway, Mr. Schuester doesn't really agree with me… I think the decision was completely wrong, but he claims he was only being fair. I told him glee club wouldn't even have lasted if it weren't for you. And that your dedication was evident from the beginning, in your joining the Acafellas…"

"You saw me in Acafellas?" Her face lights up. You wonder if she is having dirty thoughts about you. You can't say you blame her, given Mr. Schuester's song choice. And you can't say the idea isn't turning you on, a bit. "Well, I'm sure you were there for Coach."

"Huh? Oh, yes. Ken. I was there for Ken…" she mutters.

"Or, was it Mr. Schue?"

You figure, the more you remind her of him, the more she will keep things going. And the more attached he remains, the more it will hurt him, when she leaves him, for you.

"I-I just really like music," she stammers. She looks down, instead of gazing into your eyes, like she has been this entire time. That's when you know she's thinking about him

"Yeah, me too…" you say, sadly.

Just like that, she is angry all over again.

XXX

You start staying after school, to talk to her.

It's a slow process, but you know she enjoys the company. For a while, all she talks about is glee, and how she cannot stand that you had something so important taken away. She offers to help you find other clubs to join, which you are quick to decline. You tell her it is on account of glee being the only thing you're really passionate about, because you think it might make her more resentful towards Mr. Schuester.

"What else is getting you down, Noah?" she asks.

Technically, there is more to it. But it's nothing that would ever _actually _get to you. Still, opening up to her might lead her to trust you more.

"Well… I feel like a lot happened at once… I lost more than just glee." You pause. You don't want to start making this real. It is real; it did happen. But that doesn't mean it has to hurt you. Because you have always made sure that a girl will never bring you down. But you're not about to let Mr. Schuester bring you down, either. So you'll tell Ms. Pillsbury the truth, and fake the hurt. "Quinn kind of broke things off. We weren't really together, or anything… But we were supposed to be parents. She was the first person I ever really cared about. My daughter was the second. Now, I don't have either."

Ms. Pillsbury reaches across the desk, and places her hand on top of yours. It's working.

"Noah, sweetheart… Someday, you are going to find someone you will love and appreciate, who can love and appreciate you, in return. And you'll started a family—a _real_ family. And all these mistakes you made and the unfair things that happened to you in high school will be a distant memory."

She sounds so sincere, nodding sympathetically. She really is a sweet lady, but she's no Quinn Fabray; she's not the person you can love and appreciate. But that was a mistake, in the first place. You know not to let that happen again. This time, you have a plan.

You begin to gather your things. Like always, she stands when you do. She almost looks eager, right now.

"Thank you for listening to me, Ms. Pillsbury," you tell her. Students don't go to see her very often, unless they are referred, so you know the comment was a bit of a confidence booster, for her. She would definitely need some more confidence, to keep up with you.

"Noah, um, it's alright, actually, if you want to call me Emma. You know, when it's just the two of us." She stares at you, and her smile fades, as she clamps her mouth shut, nervously.

"Okay, well… Thanks, Emma," you say, in a low voice.

You lean in, cautiously, but quickly. The kiss you place on her lips is more chaste than you ever thought possible. But it has to be so subtle, that she hardly realizes what's happened, until you are already gone.

But when she purses her lips into yours, you know she is fully aware. And she does nothing to stop it.

XXX

At the end of the week, Emma calls you out of Spanish class, again. It pisses Mr. Schuester off, and you know he sees her name signed on your pass. You wonder if he has brought it up to her, yet. The sooner they start discussing you, the better.

You figure keeping Emma way from him will be enough to break him down, eventually. But even suspicions about you would probably push him over the edge.

"I figured you could use a break," she says, as you walk in and take a seat.

"From Mr. Schuester?" you ask, raising your eyebrows.

"From… from class… stress…" she stammers, alarmed.

You wonder if she's using to you to get Mr. Schuester, too. It sure seems that way, and you could not imagine a better scenario.

"Well, thanks Ms… Emma." You chuckle, and she giggles along, as well.

"I guess we should make it look like I needed you hear for something!" she declares. You're surprised that she admitted such a thing.

"I was hoping we could talk, actually," you let her know. She likes talking; doing her job. You've learned that it draws her in.

"Oh, of course! I mean, that is my job, after all…"

You are fully aware of the fact that she didn't call you down to her office because she wanted to counsel you.

"Things have just been kinda tough at home," you tell her. Your mom _has _been pissing you off, lately.

"My mom's been giving me more and more responsibility, since, you know, she found out about the baby. I think she's worried about it happening again, or something," you mutter.

Your mom has never been very happy with most of your decisions, and getting a Christian girl pregnant was definitely not her son's shining moment, in her eyes.

"I think she's just trying to cope with what happened, like you are. I personally think you've matured, a lot, since last year. You're not the same teenage boy, anymore, Noah. You've grown into a man—a nice, young man." She feigns a cough, flustered.

"Thanks, Emma," you say, softly. "It is hard, though, being on a different level than all my old friends. I never have anywhere to escape to. And spending all my time at home, watching depressing movies with my mom and little sister, is really bringing me down."

The real reason you don't hang out with your old friends is because they're all lame geeks, now. But Emma doesn't need to know that.

"Well, what if… It might be good for you to…" she stops, and you watch her take a few breaths, trying to regain her composure. "It is important for people to spend time with those on the same intellectual and emotional levels as themselves. So, perhaps, you might like to, um, have dinner at my place, this evening."

"Really? I think that might be good for me, too," you say, catering to the only, sad excuse she has, for asking out her student.

"Great!" She smiles, as if she's just won the Nobel Peace Prize. But then again, you can only imagine what it must be like, for someone like her, to be going out with such a 'prize' like you.

XXX

You show up to the address she gave you at seven o' clock, just like she asked. You even brought a cake. It's store bought, but that's the best you can do. You ring the doorbell and she greets you, not a moment later.

She's changed, since you last saw her at school. She swapped the pencil skirt and sweater for a sundress and cardigan. It's a step up, if you say so, yourself.

And you do.

"You look nice."

It could be much worse. You definitely wouldn't consider Mr. Schuester a catch, so you consider yourself lucky to be seducing someone like Emma.

She thanks you, smiling and sounding short of breath, as she welcomes you inside. Her condo is perfectly clean, of course. It's a little creepy, but you compliment that, too. Tonight is your big chance to win her over.

You certainly don't have to fake the compliments, when it comes to dinner. Her cooking is excellent. You figure it has to be, given just how particular she is about everything, from the food to the table setting.

You scowl, though, as she picks at the cheesecake you brought. You thought everybody liked cheesecake…

She catches your glance and quickly stands up, grabbing her plate, as she does.

"Why don't we go do something else?" she says, brightly. "Unless you needed to be home…?"

You shake your head no. You know that if you open your mouth to try to talk, a sly, knowing grin will spread across your face.

"So what do you like to do for fun, at home?" she asks, while placing the dishes in the dishwasher.

"Uhh, I like to play video games… But at home, I don't have a pretty girl around."

She whips her head around and, much to your surprise, she's smiling—grinning, even.

"Well, pretty girls like movies…" she says, unable to stifle a laugh.

You sit down, while she puts _There's Something About Mary _in the DVD player. She literally slides onto the couch, sitting next to you, so close that your arms are touching.

You're quite surprised by the crude nature of the film. Since your mom's selection is limited to dark and depressing, you find yourself enjoying it. But you're pretty sure Emma crossed her legs on purpose, so that her calf is just barely resting over your leg. And besides, you're not here for a movie night, anyhow.

Still, you're not sure how exactly to come onto your guidance counselor. With most girls, you usually just… go for it. But this… Well, you have to be a little more careful.

It takes you a little while. You watch her, and wait to catch her gaze. You stroke her shoulder, a bit. Tilt her chin up…

As soon as your lips meet, however, she wraps her arms around your neck, leaning in, further. She presses her body tight against yours, moaning as she opens her lips, welcoming your tongue.

You almost forget who you're with, until she finally pulls away. You have to admit, you expected that to happen much sooner.

"I feel like I should be stopping this… Saying that this is wrong…" Her voice is more high pitched than usual.

"We don't have to tell anyone," you whisper, lowly, leaning forward again.

"I said I _should _do those things…" she says, breathily. She grasps either side of your face, crashing her lips against yours, again.

You remove your mouth from hers and attach it to her neck, as your glide your hands down her sides.

"I mean… Okay, I know you're my s-student… But, I can't… I just can't help the way you make me feel…" she says, between quick breaths.

"Turned on?" you mutter, still working at her neck.

"No. Well, I mean… yessss, definitely," she gasps, as you bite down on her collar bone. "But m-more than that… You make me feel… wanted."

"I want you…" you whisper, blowing a hot breath into her ear, as you do so.

"Okay," she peeps, as you lift her from the couch and carry her into the bedroom.

XXX

In bed, is when you ask her about herself. You know women, so you figure she must be pretty vulnerable, at this point.

She tells you a story from her childhood, regarding why she has such an issue with germs. She says she is improving, however. Despite the weird habits you witness every day, you have to believe her, given the fact that she is currently tangling herself in your arms and laying her head against your glistening chest.

She tells you about her relationship with some dentist—about losing her virginity. Thirty. She was fucking _thirty_…! She has nothing by good things to say about this Carl guy, as opposed to the last person who gave you their virginity.

"So, why did you the two of you break up, then?" you ask, hoping that the reason has something to do with Mr. Schuester.

"I-I told him I loved him… Too soon, I guess. He wasn't ready…" she informs you, with an ounce of sadness, or perhaps regret, in her voice.

"Is that what happened with Mr. Schue, too…?" you inquire.

"No. No, that was… different."

You breathe a sigh of relief. That means there's a good chance Mr. Schuester is still hung up on her.

"Has… Has that ever happened to you, Noah?" she asks you, quietly.

"What?"

"Have you ever pushed someone away, by telling them you love them?"

You think back to that day at the hospital, with Quinn. _She _asked you, and then you spent the entire summer chasing her.

"I've never told anyone I love them."

It's true. You have never, _ever _actually said the words.

XXX

You're pretty sure she was literally waiting for you, around the corner, because as soon as you bump into her, she pulls you aside and starts whispering to you, in a manner that is less than subtle.

"I told Will I'm seeing someone."

She stares at you, like she's expecting some sort of validation. _What, are you supposed to give her a ring?_

"Last time, when I told him I was seeing Carl, it just seemed to drive him to fight for me even more…"

Good. Let him fight. He'll lose, and then he'll suffer.

"But this time, I think he's just… Well, I think he's okay with it," she says, nodding.

What? No. Do you have to march into his office and tell him that it's you, who is fucking the guidance counselor?

"So… what? It's really over? I mean, he's probably still into you…" You try to sound jealous, or something, but it just comes off as irritated.

"He told me he loved me, while I was dating Carl. And I eventually said it back, right after Carl and I broke up. It's just… complicated." She seems lost, for a moment, and then shakes her head. "But it's over, now."

It's not over. Far from it. You can't help but grin. If Mr. Schuester thinks he is going to win her back, by giving her space, you will pull her away from him as far as you can.

"Well, and now that that's all out in the open, I'm free to be with… someone else." She sighs, happily, while smiling up at you.

You're a little surprised at how much she's into hooking up with you. Then again, you always have a way of bringing out a lady's inner cougar.

XXX

New Directions took first place at Sectionals. Of course.

Santana texted you from the auditorium, but you told her you could care less. She seemed a little pissed that you didn't at least congratulate her, but whatever, you'll make it up to her when the Cheerios take Nationals, again.

There's a morning announcement about it, the day after the competition. They didn't even do that when you were in the club. It's like they're begging the student body to throw slushies at them.

In class, you pay close attention to Mr. Schuester's behavior. He should be reveling in his victory. But even when people congratulate him, he seems distracted. You bet he's upset that Emma was not there.

If only you could march up to his desk and inform him that while he was winning best in show, you were fucking Emma Pillsbury.

XXX

You're babysitting the Giardi kids by yourself, tonight. Quinn is sick. You would have cancelled, but no one needs their pool cleaned at this time of year, and you really need the cash.

Well, that's only half true. You did try to cancel, but Mrs. Giardi made several threats that involved a rolling pin and a 'place where the sun don't shine.' You'd rather not push your luck.

You don't even like babysitting anymore. When you were with Quinn, it was different. It gave you hope that someday, the two of you would actually get to raise a kid, together.

Now, it was just a sick reminder of everything you lost—Quinn; your daughter; glee club.

The worst part was feeling powerless. You like making your own choices in life, and all these had been made for you.

And you're not even able to redeem yourself. Emma never talks about Mr. Schuester—probably doesn't even think about him, for that matter. And he hardly even acknowledges her, anymore.

Tonight, you tell the kids they can do whatever they want, as long as they leave you alone. The parenting thing only works when you and Quinn are together.

You lay on the couch and work your way through an entire bag of Cheetos and a Jersey Shore marathon. The kids are still shrieking, when you hear Mrs. Giardi's car pull up into the driveway.

She and Mrs. Schuester walk in, carrying two boxes from Breadsticks. She is not at all happy, seeing you sprawled out on the couch, suffering from a cheese puff coma, and she accuses you of sneaking into the liquor cabinet. Now that she mentions it, you wish you would have thought to look…

Mrs. Giardi grumbles about the house smelling like dirty children and makes her way back towards the bedroom. She screams, and you and Mrs. Schuester both jump, before catching one another's glance.

"WHY IS THERE CRAYON ALL OVER THE CARPET?"

"I… They wanted to color on the bed. I told them to color on the floor…" you offer. It's the truth.

"That's what you little brats finally decide to listen to?" you hear the dysfunctional mother shout.

Mrs. Schuester giggles. "Well, they certainly took you quite literally…"

You shoot her a smile.

"Hey, Mrs. Schue." You stop to look at her. That gives you an idea… "Or is it…?" You raise an eyebrow at her.

Mr. Schuester may be divorced, but there's no way he would be happy about a student banging his ex-wife. And that crazy bitch is pretty much willing to do anything, to get Mr. Schuester back. You should know, after working with her last year. She would jump on the chance to make him jealous. And who wouldn't be jealous of Puckzilla?

"It's still Mrs. Schuester, yeah," she tells you, with a sad smile.

It doesn't take much.

You offer to see her to her car. It's late, so she asks you to follow her home. The streetlights are pretty dim, so you walk her to the door.

There's no formal invitation, when you end up in bed, together.

XXX

You don't see Emma that weekend. Just sitting at home, you can't seem to keep your mind off of the mind-blowing sex you had with Terri on Friday. Terri Schuester. That fucking bastard's ex-wife. As crazy as she is, you can't see Mr. Schuester—or any man—letting go of a woman like _that_. Then again, Mr. Schuester isn't really much of a man, at all.

It would be easy to just call up Emma—or Santana, even—to provide yourself some relief. You've always thought sex is sex, no matter what. But that Sunday, you surprisingly don't feel as if anything will compare to what you had, two nights ago.

"Hi, Terri."

"_Exuse me?" _she snaps, on the other line.

"Um… hi?" It usually takes you a few more words to say something offensive.

"_Yeah, that's 'hi, Mrs. Schuester,' to you, Puck."_

"Oh…"

Her words are harsh. You're confused. Ms. Pillsbury had practically begged you to call her Emma, and insisted on calling you Noah. Then again, Terri—Mrs. Schuester—is nothing like Emma and you appreciate that.

"Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out again…"

"_Um, why would I want to hang out with you?"_

You silently curse at yourself for sounding so uncool. You never have a problem with the ladies. She just took you off-guard with the whole Mrs. Schuester request. That's all…

"_If you want to have sex, you can just say so." _she says, before you even had a chance to respond to her last question.

It's foreign, hearing her state what you're usually so quick to suggest. But you do admire her bold nature.

Later, you call her Mrs. Schuester, in bed. It's kinda kinky. You find that you actually quite like it.

XXX

You find out from Santana that Finn and Quinn are dating again.

You're getting kind of sick of the girl marching up to you in the hallways, acting like whatever she has to tell you is the world's most important news. But she is your only connection to the glee club, anymore, albeit a small one.

It's not like you care, anyway. You've got too much going on to worry about it. And you will never be able to love Quinn the way Finn can.

XXX

Emma calls you, right as you're leaving Mrs. Schuester's. She asks you to come over, which is the last thing you want to do, after the afternoon you just had.

Mrs. Schuester told you to skip school, after lunch. She said she was really horny, but she had to work an evening shift, so you had to work around her schedule. You have to admit, you find it kind of sexy that she is just as—if not, more—vulgar as you.

If you weren't still certain that Mr. Schuester was hung up on Emma, you would probably leave her, and just stay with Mrs. Schuester. Your time with Mrs. Schuester is always pretty brief, but there's something you really enjoy about it. Emma's just so needy…

It's not until she starts rambling about the conversation she had with Mr. Schuester that you decide you will for sure go over. She's talking about how happy he seems, and how she is glad that they are both finally in a good place. You could not be more frustrated. You know she is just oblivious to whatever game Mr. Schuester is playing. Even still, this is taking so much longer than necessary. Based on the reputation he earned last year, you're pretty sure Mr. Schuester does not like to spend long periods of time alone. So, he should have gone after her, by now…

"Why weren't you at school this afternoon?" she asks, as soon as you walk through the door.

"I don't know. I just didn't feel like it." You shrug. Why should she care? It's not as if she's been treating you like a student, lately.

"Well… Noah…" She sounds nervous and doubtful, but hesitant to push the issue. "Okay, that's fine, but you were skipping. And Principal Figgins makes me deal with that stuff. And Mr. Schuester was asking _me _about it, which was completely uncomfortable…"

"Did you tell him about us, or something?" you demand, trying to distract her.

"What? Who?" she says, in a small voice, like always.

"Mr. Schue."

You highly doubt she told him. But just putting the idea in her head seems like a good idea. You're not sure what the consequences would be, if he did find out. But it would for sure mean that you've won.

"Oh, heavens no!" She looks stunned. "Noah, I would never put us at risk, like that."

You sigh. You know you expected too much out of this plan, from the beginning. But you tell yourself that not having her, regardless of who it is that does, will eventually break him down.

Technically, he could be informed of what you're doing with Mrs. Schuester… That's not illegal, at least. It's almost enough to make you call the whole thing off, with Emma. You would have everything you wanted, then. But it wouldn't be enough. When you were still in Glee, all Mr. Schuester did was complain about his ex-wife. Of course he can't appreciate someone like her. It might get under his skin, a little, but it would never break him down, the way you having Emma eventually will.

Usually Emma isn't very forward. She tends to flash you looks, instead, that indicate when she wants to get physical. But you've been too lost in your own thoughts to notice, right now. Suddenly, you find her leaning up, holding onto your face, as she kisses you.

You find it harder and harder to be intimate with her, which usually is not a problem for you, with any woman. She isn't anything like the older women you usually sleep with. Then again, she only just had her cherry popped this past year… She's not bad in bed, though, you have to admit. Still, you're never left with the most satisfied feeling, afterwards.

She's pulling you to the bedroom, trying to get your hands on her, more, while she runs her own hands up and down your chest.

"Mm, Noah?" she gasps, pulling away. "You… you smell like… like perfume…" She looks nervous and worried, as she clutches onto your half buttoned shirt.

"Oh, um, my sister sprayed me in the hallway, before I left," you lie, poorly. Mrs. Schuester obviously wears something far more sophisticated than your little sister's fruity shit, but it's the best thing you can think of.

"Oh, okay…" she says, softly. She pushes herself up, on her tip toes, to wrap her arms around your neck. "I love you, Noah," she whispers in your ear.

Gently, you grab her shoulders and pull her back, staring into her wide, scared eyes. You look at her and nod, with as much reassurance as you can muster up. This whole relationship is nothing but a lie, but there is just no way you could ever bring yourself to falsely utter those words.

She nods, too, quickly, and presses her lips against yours, more desperate than ever.

XXX

After finishing—and most likely failing—your Spanish exam, you toss it onto Mr. Schuester's desk, not even making eye contact, and you immediately turn to make your way out.

"Puck, can you hang back, for a minute?"

You shrug. "Yeah, whatever…"

The both of you wait, while the other kids file out. He watches you with those weird, shifty eyes. He's probably just going to confront you about your grade, but you hold onto that ounce of hope that he might be suspicious about you and Emma.

"Alright, Puck," he says, sitting on the edge of his desk. "I'm holding auditions again, at the beginning of the spring semester. Figgins is allowing me to take a few more members. I wanted to make sure you knew."

"Why would I wanna hear about your little geek club?" you spit. You're so over fucking New Directions.

"So you can come out for the team, again, Puck… Your last audition was not up to your usual standard, but with some time to prepare—"

"No way, Mr. Schue. Forget it. I was the only thing keeping up the club's rep. It's right back in the crapper, where it belongs, and I'm not helping you guys out again."

You walk away, not letting him get in another word. You wouldn't go back to his glee club, even if you wanted to. You are certainly not doing Mr. Schuester any favors.

XXX

Mrs. Schuester is not one for lying around in bed together, after sex. You aren't really, either—you're getting sick of Emma wanting to just cuddle for hours on end. But you have to admit, if there's one person you would rather spend a little extra time with, it's Mrs. Schuester.

Sometimes, though, she lets you stick around to watch some TV, or orders Chinese takeout and sends you to the door to pick it up.

She throws on your t-shirt, like always. You like to think it's just because she enjoys seeing you shirtless, since her nightgown collection is rather extensive, after all. She turned on Deadliest Catch, while the two of you sit and eat on the bed.

You watch her as she switches between moments of fascination with the show, to intense focus on the carryout container and chopsticks in her hands.

"I wish you had my baby…" you tell her.

"I'm sorry, what?" she snaps, shooting her eyes in your direction, while she holds her head above the container, as a heaping bite of chow mein is hanging from her mouth.

"I know you wanted to adopt the baby from Quinn… I would have liked that. I could have helped you take care of her."

You know you're too young, but sometimes, you wish for nothing more than to have your daughter.

"I don't think it would have worked out that way… It-It wasn't really the best idea, to begin with," she says. For the first time, she doesn't sound fully confident.

"You remind me of her. Quinn, I mean. Only better…"

"Puck…"

"Yes?" you ask, hesitantly. You didn't mean it in a bad way.

"Nevermind," she says, smirking. "Tell me all the things that draw you to me…"

You smile and begin to recite the mental list you keep in your head.

XXX

Your mom is demanding that you stay in for a movie night. She is obviously aware that you are not the most chaste teenager in the Jewish community, but you try to keep your cougar chasing lifestyle hidden. Besides, you can only imagine the lawsuit you would have on your hands, when she got all her lawyer friends to help out the case.

You oblige, despite the fact that you always hate the movies she forces you to watch. You figure, since you have managed to escape most of them this year, she will probably choose _Schindler's List_, which is the easiest for you to tune out, given the number of times you've seen it.

Putting your TV dinner onto the tray in front you, you plop down on your chair, as some shitty quality movie starts up.

You haven't seen this one before, though. It is kind of depressing—true to your mom's taste—but there's something about it that you enjoy.

It's the main character. She reminds you of Mrs. Schuester. Not in the creepy seductress way, or anything. And the boy she's with is kind of a dumbass. But the woman's strong attitude, and the manner of their relationship… It just makes you think of her.

"What movie is this, mom?" you ask.

"_The Graduate_…" she says, tearfully, as the boy gets his heartbroken by some young girl.

Typical. You don't even know why he's going after her, anyway, when he should be with Mrs. Robinson.

That's another thing. The boy only ever calls her Mrs. Robinson. There's even a song about her, in the movie.

Maybe she isn't like Quinn, after all. Quinn is what you had always expected for yourself, but you could never love each other the way you should.

Maybe Mrs. Schuester is everything you need.

XXX

Emma's in the shower. She asked you if you wanted to join her, but you just put your old clothes back on, instead. You're just going to be taking them off again, within the next hour, anyway.

You don't understand how it is _this _complicated, but you're wrestling with her perfume bottle. You just want to put some of it on your neck—that seems noticeable enough.

It's glass, and kind of looks like a crystal, and the top doesn't really screw on and has some weird attachment on it that you don't know the purpose of. Most of the girls you know use stuff that sprays out of a plastic bottle. You have no clue how to use this.

You wiggle the top around, a bit, trying to see if there's a nozzle underneath it. But you shove it too hard, and the bottle falls from your grip.

"Shit!"

You grab it, frantically, but half of its contents have already spilled down your front.

"Uhh…" you mutter to yourself, glancing around the room.

You notice your iced tea, sitting on the nightstand. It's _almost _the same color… You pour some in, until the bottle is filled back to where it was.

You decide to write a note, informing Emma that your mom wants you home to study. Of course, you could have just shouted to her, but she would certainly insist on a kiss goodbye, or something, and you're pretty sure people in China can smell the perfume on you.

XXX

Mrs. Schuester doesn't smell it.

She doesn't notice it when her lips are pressed against your neck.

She doesn't notice it when she throws on your shirt, to go grab that piece of leftover pie.

When she crawls back into bed, she seems consumed with the sweet aroma of apples, from the dessert she just heated up. But you can hardly breathe, let alone smell anything other than this damn department store perfume.

She has to notice it, too. There is no possible way she doesn't.

But then again, it _is_ allergy season…

XXX

"_And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson. Jesus loves you more than you will know. Whoa, whoa, whoa. God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson. Heaven holds a place for those who pray. Hey, hey hey… Hey, hey, hey…"_

You lean against the ledge outside her window, playing the tune on your guitar and singing the lyrics to the first song you've been willing to learn, since glee club.

"_We'd like to know a little bit about you for our files. We'd like to help you learn to help yourself. Look around you, all you see are sympathetic eyes. Stroll around the grounds until you feel at home."_

The light flicks on and you watch her shadow open the window, until she lifts the screen and appears in the frame.

"_And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson. Jesus loves you more than you will know. Whoa, whoa, whoa. God bless you, please, Mrs. Robinson. Heaven holds a place for those who pray. Hey-ey hey… Hey-ey, hey…"_

She sits in the windowsill, crossing her arms over her chest. You can't read the expression on her face, but you turn your head up towards her, anyway.

"_Hide it in a hiding place where no one ever goes. Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes. It's a little secret, just the Robinsons' affair. Most of all, you've got to hide it from the kids."_

You move from where you're leaning and turn to face her fully, as you finish the song. You're very grateful that her apartment is on the first floor.

"_Coo coo ca-choo, Mrs. Robinson. Jesus loves you more than you will know. Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's that you say, Mrs. Robinson? Heaven holds a place for those who pray. Hey, hey hey… Hey-ey, hey…"_

"Puck…"

"Yes, Mrs. Schue?" you say, with a satisfied grin.

"What the _hell_ was that?"

Your face drops a little, but you don't let her see it. "Mrs. Robinson. It's a song from _The_—"

"I know the song," she snaps, cutting you off. "Why would you be singing to me about being some cradle robber?"

You take a deep breath. It figures that Mr. Schuester was wrong, like always. You can't just express yourself, through a song. You'll have to tell her…

"No, no. It's not that. You're… you're different. I find you to be this perfect, sophisticated woman." You reach out to hold her face, softly stroking her cheek with your thumb, and you can hardly believe yourself, but you find it to be the most intimate moment you have ever experienced. "I-I love you, Mrs. Schuester…"

She laughs, a little. _Laughs. _But, on the other hand… she does look happy; pleased.

"Come on in, Puck," she says, a little more warmly than usual. You follow her through the window.

You climb on top of her, in bed. You kiss her slowly, with open eyes. Sex is equivalent to love, for girls, right? That's what got you into so much trouble with Quinn.

Right. That's what you and Mrs. Schuester have been doing. Making _love._

XXX_  
_

Everybody is so damn happy, when New Directions wins Regionals.

Last year, that day was when your entire life started falling apart. You lost the competition. And you gave up Beth. You and Quinn might have stood a chance, prior to that point, but all hope was lost, as soon as you signed the papers.

You're better off without Quinn. You're better off not being in the glee club. But that doesn't mean these pathetic losers don't deserve to put up with some shit, just like you had to. Especially Mr. Schuester.

Mr. Schuester is on top of the world.

It's like the world is playing a sick joke on you, when you pass by his beaming face at least four times in the hallway, during the morning. And when you go to his class in the afternoon, he doesn't even start to teach. All he can talk about is his fucking victory.

After about ten minutes of bullshit, you leave. You don't even ask for a hall pass. He's probably too elated to notice, anyway, but you just walk right out the door.

More than anything, you want to go to Terri. Even though you're failing, she's the one thing that makes you feel alright. But you know just from being around her at work last year that the last thing she wants to hear about is glee club, even if you are complaining about it.

You end up in the counseling office, because you have nowhere else to go, at this point.

You simply walk in and sit down, resting your head against your fingertips and staring at an unspecific spot in front of you.

"Oh, Noah…" Emma says, sadly. That's all she says.

She knows exactly why you're upset, but it's not like there's anything she can do about it.

XXX

"I'm pregnant."

From the instant you hear the words, you stop breathing.

Your head immediately grows cloudy. You can't think straight. You blink a few times, but everything looks dark, like you're blacking out. Everything sounds far away.

This _can't _be happening again… Not yet, at least.

"It's Will's, you idiot."

Her words are sharp, so you manage to hear them. But you don't understand what she's saying.

"Wh-what…?"

"I am pregnant… with Mr. Schuester's child…" she says, slowly, talking to you like you're a five year old, rather than someone she's been sleeping with for months.

"How do you know it's his?" It's the first thing you think to ask.

"Puck, you and I used protection. I didn't need to use protection with Will," she pauses, looking hesitant, for the first time. You've never seen her hold back, before. "I wanted to let you know. Because this… thing, between us… It's over. Will and I have been working things out. We're getting back together."

Your face forms a scowl. Suddenly, it all makes sense. It's no wonder your plan failed, when Mr. Schuester has been preoccupied with his ex-wife, rather than pursuing Emma. But as you look at her, this woman who managed to make you, of all people, so weak, you can't understand _why_ or _how_ this happened.

"Then why… why have you been seeing me… all this time?" you manage to get out, exasperated.

"It was liberating, really… Will and I have had our problems. He had his thing with Emma, and got that out of his system… I was able to do the same with you." You see her eye your expression, before she scoffs. "Puck, there's no need to make a big deal out of this. I know about your reputation, around town. This was just a fling for you. And I'm okay with that. Will really does love me."

Your expression changes, as the scowl leaves your face. You're not angry with her. The real truth is, you are angry with Mr. Schuester, for making her believe that he could ever love her, as much as she deserves.

You want to say something; anything, to convince her not to go. But you look at her, and you can see that she is so happy. You hate Mr. Schuester more than ever; more than you've ever hated anybody. But you remember the words to the song.

_Jesus loves you more than you will know…_

You're Jewish, so you don't really believe in Jesus, or whatever, but you know that she's the type of person who will always be loved, no matter what. And that's all that really matters.

XXX

You skip school the next day, because there is no way you can walk into Spanish class, without punching him in the face.

That is exactly what happens, when you show up at glee rehearsal, that afternoon.

You fist hits the side of his jaw, with a crack, causing his head to spin and his knees to fall to the floor.

You prepare yourself for a fight, expecting him to stand up and come after you, because you know teachers are allowed to do that, in self-defense. (You looked it up, just in case.) But instead, Finn grabs you, holding you back.

Mr. Schuester stands up, holding his jaw, and looks you straight in the eye, partially angry and partially hurt.

Your face is expressionless. You don't even care what happens anymore.

XXX

Emma doesn't try very hard to prevent your expulsion from McKinley. You will be starting your senior year at Carmel High. She explains to you, how you are almost eighteen, and the two of you can be together, for real, if you aren't her student.

That's why you're surprised when she asks why you punched Mr. Schuester.

"He messed with the woman I love."

"I'm not going to let anything come between us, Noah," she says, stroking the back of your neck.

You're pretty sure she knows you were not referring to her. But you know she's going to ignore it, so long as you never bring it up.

It's unfair for you to lead her on, like this. But when you think about it, she is being just as selfish. She can easily recognize that you're unhappy, yet she wants to hold onto you, anyway.

You are never going to be happy, though. Because no one that you are capable of loving is capable of loving you.

You're not going to say anything. Ever. What would be the point?

XXX

'_Happy 5__th__ Birthday, Tanner!' _you write on the card, before sealing it inside the envelope, and placing a big _'T'_ sticker on the front.

You can't believe it's already been five years.

Ava is still sleeping, true to both her ten month old self and the lazy Puckerman genes she has inherited. Honestly, you're quite surprised she got your dark hair and skin, as well. You're going to be late, so you gently lift her from her crib, while balancing a wrapped transformer in your other arm.

You finally have everything you've ever dreamed of. You're a father, with the most beautiful family.

"Honey, are you almost ready?" you hear, from the main room.

You should be happy. A long time ago, however, you accepted the fact that you would never know true happiness. At this point, your only wish is that your family is able to find it.

You slip on your Italian loafers and make your way into the living room.

"I'm all set, Em," you say, kissing your wife on the cheek and handing her your daughter, who hasn't so much as rubbed her eyes.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, Noah? I know there's still a bit of bad air between the two of you…"

"Ah, yeah, it's no big deal. I'm pretty sure he's written it off as teenage stupidity by now…"

Of course, you know where the real tension comes from, and you wouldn't be surprised if she did, too.

You arrive at the party with Ava in your arm and Emma clutching onto your hand. You promised her a long time ago that you would never let go, but sometimes you still feel her grip tighten.

You're quickly relieved of the small amount of weight from the baby, as she is passed around the many party guests. The McKinley staff fell in love with Ava as quickly as they had with little Tanner.

You grab the present from Emma, to place it on the designated table that is already overflowing with gifts.

You're making your way back when you see her, standing across the lawn. She's wearing dark denim shorts and a brightly colored top, which her hair is spilling over, as she leans down, slightly, to hold the hand of a short, curly blonde haired boy.

Every time you see her she seems calmer, like each day she feels more and more complete. No matter how frequently or infrequently you see her, you always remember the passion she filled you with. For you, each day without it leaves you incomplete. But it's the price you have to pay, for her happiness; for everyone's happiness.

You smile, in spite of yourself.

Mr. Schuester gets to you first.

"Emma!" he exclaims, pulling her into a hug. "Hi, Puck," he says, turning to you.

You nod. "Hey, Mr. Schue."

"Will, the backyard looks even better since the last time I saw it!" Emma tells him, with admiration.

"Yeah, it took a few years, but I think we've finally got our dream home," he says, with a content sigh. "And you two just moved into a new home not too long ago, right?"

"Just a few months after Ava was born. Puck is still doing some renovations, but it's coming along nicely."

"I really am happy for you two," Mr. Schuester says. He actually means it. Because, why wouldn't he?

"Hi, honey…" Mrs. Schuester approaches, tugging her little boy along with her, and leans up to kiss her husband on the cheek. "Oh, hi guys! Tanner, can you say hi?"

He smiles, coyly, but wraps his arms around his mother's thin leg. She waves for him, instead, catching your eye, in the process.

"Will, can we help Puck and Emma find something to drink?" she says, turning to smile up at him.

You follow them, as they walk hand in hand. Emma instinctively laces her fingers with yours.

After grabbing a couple beers, you and Emma find a table. Mrs. Giardi hands you Ava with a disgusted look, which you know is only to express her disbelief in your daughter's good behavior—and in the fact that she does not have red hair.

"In a couple months, we'll be doing this," Emma says, softly. She rests her elbow on your shoulder and lightly grazes her fingernails over your head, while smiling down at Ava. "Can you believe it?"

"No," you say. "No, I really can't…"

Your life has turned out to be nothing like you imagined. Or perhaps, it's nothing like you dreamed. Because when you think about it, it is exactly what you should have expected.

After cake and ice cream and presents, the party progresses into one less about the kids—who are inside sleeping—and more for the adults.

You run into her again, at the cooler.

"Hi!" she exclaims, smiling at you.

"Hey, Mrs. Schuester…" you say. The name makes your throat burn, as you say it.

"Hey, you wanna go dance?" she asks you.

You would give absolutely anything in the world for one meaningful second with her.

But you know it wouldn't mean a thing.

"What do you say we get out of here? Go home," you say, leaning over Emma's shoulder.

She smiles, and her whole face lights up. It's moments like these that remind you that you're doing the best thing for everyone.

You carry Ava in her car seat, and walk out hand in hand with Emma. You've got the perfect family, and that's about the most you could ever ask for.

After all, you've never been much for love, anyway.


End file.
